


Rules Are Only For Little Nice People

by PaleNoFace



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - High School, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Demon Sock, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jonathan Being Gay, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mephisto Is Nice Is Swear, Monster Jonathan, No Angst, Sock being Sock, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace
Summary: "Where is he ?!"He grins despite the ache of his mouth and looks up."Fuck you."A bunch of knuckles get aquainted with his cheekbone anddamn, that hurt. As the guy is asking him again, he takes a few moments to shake his head and spit some overflowing blood to the side. Then he repeats, clearer :"Fuck. You."





	1. Jonathan

A punch. Another. Then another. He's kneeling on the ground now. The world becomes blurry. Something meets his nose with a sick crack and he feels blood rushing down his face. The pain catches up a second later, exploding in his face and drawing a grunt from his bruised lips. They hit and hit and hit him again, diving him in a weird space where only scarlet and numbness exist. He barely hears the voices around him anymore. Not that he cares. He's not supposed to be awake, just playing for time. Just a little more, just a few minutes. He only needs a few minutes. He has a second of lucidity, long enough to get that the guy punching him is now asking something. _Asking him._

 

"Where is he ?!"

 

He grins despite the ache of his mouth and looks up.

 

"Fuck you."

 

A bunch of knuckles get aquainted with his cheekbone and _damn, that hurt_. As the guy is asking him again, he takes a few moments to shake his head and spit some overflowing blood to the side. Then he repeats, clearer :

 

"Fuck. You."

 

Only for him to get beaten up again, the pain sharper than ever in his sore muscles and broken bones. He's pretty sure there is more of his blood outside of his body than inside at this point. The guy must be bored of the same answer because he grabs him by the hair and lifts him, high enough so his feet can't touch the ground, which is, in his opinion, just a dick move.

 

"Where the fuck is your demon ?!"

 

He sticks out his tongue, but another guy in the room punches him in the chin at the same exact moment, resulting in his own teeth deeply buried in his own flesh. Which is not that great. He's starting to feel impatient, too : where the fuck is his partner ? He should have showed up ages ago, but, as usual, the fucker is late. Suddently, one of the men in the room stops laughing and asks, voice blank :

 

"Is that a flying kitchen kni- bleaargh !"

 

The next few seconds are the most confused of his life : he's dropped on the ground as the rest of them scream in sync and run around, clearing the room in a matter of instants, while a distinct stabbing sound - metal swinging and penetrating flesh with a wet noise - echoes all around. His legs and arms are too tired to hold him up, but from the manic laugh coming from above his head, he guesses that reinforcements just joined the party. As by chance, someone crouches in front of him, elbows resting on knees, a bloody kitchen knife dangling between the legs, hold by just as bloody hands.

 

"Hey hot stuff, see something you like ?"

 

As a matter of fact, yes. He very much does.

 

"About goddamn time, asshole."


	2. Sock

"Heh, what can I say ?" he giggles, his usual twisted smile reemerging on his face. "I have a thing for dramatic entrances. You okay, tho ?" he adds, giving the boy a hand to help him up, but then allows him an extra second when he sees that he is panting of pain with the effort.

 

"Have been worse," his partner answers, sitting with a wince. "What took you so long ? Did you find them ?"

 

He takes a moment to clean his knife on the dead guy's shirt, and finally answers :

 

"Ah, yeah. They were two floors lower, in a cage. Just like we were told."

 

"Did you..."

 

"Yes, Jonathan, I brought them to the recovery team, Jesus," he groans and rolls his eyes. "I can control myself sometimes, despite what you think."

 

It's Jonathan's turn to roll his eyes, but there is fondness in his look. He tries slowly to get up, only to fall back on his ass with an annoyed growl.

 

"Never meant you couldn't."

 

Sock shrugs, pouting for a last second, before reaching out to help. Jonathan weighs on him to free his most injured leg from any pressure and they slowly climb they way back in the staircase.

 

"Do you think they'll come back ?" he asks after a few minutes, more genuinly curious than worried.

 

"Nah, your knife trick probably scared the shit out of them."

 

The grin is back on Sock's face and it doesn't leave it. They finally get out in the open air and Jonathan slowly releases the breath none of them knew he was holding. Once their eyes are finally adapted to the bright midday sun, they localise the van. It's not difficult to find, with five policemen, two members of the school, three nurses and two small figures wrapped in survival blankets. Sock suddently tips over, Jonathan's weigh dragging him unexpectedly down.

 

"Wowow, hey, Jon ! What the fuck ?!"

 

"Don't mind me, I'm just gonna... black out... for a bit."

 

The smaller guy sighs and adjusts his center of gravity before calling out for help. One of the nurses, a tall brune man with heterochromatic eyes, runs over and inspects Jonathan with the critical look of someone who knows their job. He lays the boy directly on the ground and asks his coworkers for a stretcher, two fingers pressed against Jonathan's throat. He gives Sock a quick glance :

 

"Are you okay ?"

 

"Of course," he replies, playing distractly with the handle of his knife. "I wasn't the bait, after all."

 

"The things they make you do, in this school..." the man sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's trully inhuman. You're kids, for fuck's sake."

 

Sock huffs. He's not really in the mood for small talk. Time to cut the crap and go down directly to business.

 

"We're not kids anymore. And we're not humans. We're paid to save lives, just like you, so don't direspect our job."

 

The nurse looks up to him once again, his blue eye shining with a hint of fear. Now, that's something Sock likes.


	3. Jonathan

He groans when he opens his eyes again. Everything hurts and itches. He blinks a few times, trying to understand where he is. Right, his dormitory room, he can tell just by the smell. The room smells strong rather than bad, but what do you expect from putting two hormonal teenagers in a small boarding room, honestly ?

 

He sits up in his bed and stretches, his articulations popping with a satisfying sound. He has no idea what time is it, because whoever put him to bed - probably Sock - closed the shutters, leaving the room in a cozy, relative darkness. He gets slowly out of his blankets and takes a tentative step. His legs seem healed properly, even thought he still feels phantom pains in his bones. The only really painful part of his body is his head, and he'd not be surprised if they told him he had a concussion. All of his teeth are back in place, however, and he's grateful about it : regrowing permanent teeth is a pain in the ass.

 

As he shuffles around, looking for a relatively clean sweatshirt he can put on his pajamas, he glances at the analog alarm clock, only source of light in the room. It's just past eleven, which means he's been asleep for at least twenty-four hours - and it's _a lot_ , even for him. They must have beaten him pretty hard if he needed so much time to heal. When he finally finds his sweatshirt, he gets out of the room and walks down the empty hallways of the school. There is no sound aside from his steps on the thick carpet and the low beating of his heart ; every now and then, a bird chirps from outside the tall windows.

 

He finally reaches the cafeteria, mostly empty except for three students, speaking quietly above their plates of eggs. Everyone else must be in class or on a mission. Talking about mission, he has no idea how are the kids they saved. He should probably go check on them at some point. But first, breakfast.

 

"Haaaay, Jonathan ! Long time no see !" Carmen, the young werewolf working at the hot food station, winks at him when he comes close. "How has work been ?"

 

"As usual," he mutters. "I'm still sore, but we got the kids."

 

She hums in approval and fills a plate with eggs and bacon, handing him a large piece of buttered bread on the way.

 

"Nothing a good breakfast can't fix ! We got yogurt in the back, want some ?"

 

He nods and makes his way to an empty table while she disappears behind the stockpile door. Everything he does is slow today, so it's slowly that he chews his bacon, looking over to the group of students on his left. I knows one of the guys from a shapeshifting class, but the other two are younger students he only saw in the hallways during rush hour. Carmen comes back and handles him two yoghurt pots and a spoon, before leaving again. He eats in relative silence, only interrupted by sporadic laughs coming from the small group.

 

Will, the guy from the shapeshift class, gets up, cleans his leftovers in the nearest trashcan and disappears with a last wave to his friends. Quickly enough, the two others - siblings, it seems - quit the cafeteria, leaving him to his thoughts. He wonders where Sock is right now. He shouldn't be in class since they were on a mission just the day before, but it won't surprise him that the boy is reporting to the director.


	4. Sock

"Any collateral damage, during your expedition ?" Mephistopheles, the school director, asks politely, his hands joined under his chin.

 

"Two men, one at the entrance when we walked in, and one when I got back to Jonathan."

 

There is no emotion in his voice, just the smallest hint of glee at the memory of the fun he had.

 

"And the others ?" Meph asks again, untangling his fingers to type something on his computer.

 

"There were seven more, from what I saw. They ran out, but the police caught them ! Except for one."

 

"Yes, I heard that he was still sought. You worked well, Napoleon."

 

Sock cringes when he hears his name, knowing well that Mephistopheles only uses it when he doesn't mean to praise.

 

"However, we have to talk about your... strategy."

 

 _Oh balls, there we go._ He sits on the edge of his chair, fingers absently fidgetting witht he seam of his skirt. He knows that their way to do things is unconventional, but it works. Using the fact that they're monsters, not to scare their ennemies, but to actually infuriate them and lure them into a trap, is not how they were told to act. Mephistopheles' eyes are burning holes in his skull, making him shrink on his seat, but the director only smiles, which makes him even more menacing.

 

"I understand that your ability to walk through the walls is rather useful on the spot, and the exceptional health of your partner is useful when used as deceit. But it's the third time this month Jonathan ends at the infirmary, and I cannot let my students hurt themselves so much in such a short time."

 

"But..!"

 

"EVEN. If it's for the greater good," Meph hammers, voice low and calm, but passive-agressive enough to make Sock's skin have goosebumps. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Sock ?" he asks, his tone a little bit more sweet.

 

"I... Understand, sir."

 

_No, I really don't._

 

"I'll ask your Defense professor to take you two in for basic classes for a week or two. And you'll have to attend Strategy sup classes, just in case. Until further notice, neither you nor Combs are allowed on missions."

 

It's the last straw for Sock.

 

"But- You're punishing us for doing our job ? For doing it well ?!" he jolts from his seat, banging his fists against the wood of the desk. "Sir, I- You can't do that to me ! I'm basically built for this ! I'm going to go mad if I have to stay at school all the time ! And it's without speaking about all the incidents I could create ! You know as well as I do that murderous drives aren't easy to control ! What if I stab one of my friends ? What if I stab a teacher ?!"

 

Mephistopheles lays back in his chair, an eyebrow cocked, long digits once again crossed before his face. He doesn't seem surprised by Sock's outburst and finally asks, when the boy draws in a painful breath :

 

"Are you done ?"

 

"I'm done. But unhappy."

 

"I know. If it helps you sleep at night, the school staff will be aware of your new "condition". And except for your personal knife, you're not allowed near any other weapon, for evident reasons."

 

Sock closes his eyes and exhales, the taste of defeat slowly filling his mouth. The director is no longer paying attention to him, silently letting him know that he's discharged. He walks to the door, ready to go back to his room to mope or demand a hug from Jonathan, when Mephistopheles calls him one last time.

 

"You have to know that it's not a punishment. Try to see past your anger and understand why I am doing this. You're a living being, not a war machine."

 

 _You're putting everyone else in danger, that's what you're doing_ , Sock thinks. But he knows better than saying it out loud. The door closes behind him.


	5. Jonathan

It's not like he cares about homework. It's not like it's the end of the world if he doesn't do them. But right now Jonathan is bored to death : Internet is down in the whole school for some reason, Sock is nowhere to be found and every other person he could stand the sight of right now is in class. So here he is, sprawled on a bench in the greenhouse with his open books on his lap and his half-done philosophy paper in hand, wondering why the hell would anyone spend so much time on the nature of the truth. Again, it's not like he cares about it, so he ends up bullshitting the other half of the assignment so he can move to geopolitics. Not that he cares much more about what is currently going on with the italian government.

 

Some kids pass in front of him, chasing each other with delighted squeals and laughs. In need of a break, he puts down his work to watch them play among the plants. A small girl with large wings lazily flies above everyone's head. A kid with bat-like ears is hiding behind the pot of a very thick bush. Two others - siamese, Jon recalls - are wobbling down to the water pump to get a drink. A green-skinned girl climbs on top of a tree and sits there, taking in the sun. The last two are tangled together on a bench, not very far away from him, napping in the late sun of the afternoon. Jonathan raises an eyebrow. He doesn't reconize them.

 

Despite his "I don't fucking care leave me alone" attitude, Jonathan actually knows a lot of people at school, from Baz and Connor the eighth year vampires to Allison the exchange student mecha, he remembers most of the faces he sees in the hallways. He knows the green girl and the bat guy, he has seen the twins on the playground and he knows that the flying girl is the sister of one of his classmates. But these two ? Never seen before.

 

The tallest may be fifteen years old, but his face marked by fatigue makes him look older. His hair, thick and pointing at random directions, looks like it hasn't been cut in a while. His turned-up nose kind of reminds him of Sock's, but the kid's is red and irritated, just like the rim of his eyes : he's probably been crying recently. He looks perfectly human, except maybe for his grey-ish skin tone, but Jonathan knows better than anyone how to spot a monster in disguise, being himself able to disappear in a crowd and look like an inofensive teen. Gloomy, sure, but inofensive. The second one, not much older than ten years old, small and skinny, hugged in his buddy's arms, looks a little bit more like what one would expect from a monster : skin completely white save for the hands, black from the elbow down to the claws, two sets of tiny horns protuding on the forehead and what Sock calls "typical vampire hair style", which is, by the way, total bullshit - obviously Sock has never seen Connor's bedhead. So no, he has never seen these kids before.

 

Something suddently lands on him, making him jump in surprise.

 

"You're up !" Sock trills, wrapping his arms around Jon's shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

 

"I won't be for long if you don't let me breathe..."

 

"Oh ! Uh, sorry ! Whassup ? You feeling okay ? How is your mouth ?" he says again, his voice oddly high-pitched and his smile too forced.

 

Jonathan looks at him suspiciously in silence, until the boy can't take it anymore :

 

"What's with the look ?"

 

"You tell me," he replies, folding his arms on his chest. "You're the one weirding out."

 

Sock's smile drops immediately as well and his head and he groans, climbing over the bench to sit next to his partner. He chews the inside of his cheek, just like every time he's worried.

 

"We are under house arrest until further notice."

 

"What ?! Why ?" it's Jonathan's turn to groan. " We did the job, aren't they satisfied ?"

 

"No, no, we got that just fine, but... Mephistopheles thinks you went to the hospital once too often. So no more missions for us until he decides of it. And we have more classes because he's just like that."

 

"Ah, craaaaaap," Jonathan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "That blows, man."

 

"Tell me about it," Sock replies as he leans against him with a frustrated huff.

 

The blond boy pushes his forgotten work asides and wraps an arm around him, drawing him closer. They stay like that, under the warm glass of the greenhouse, unaware of the noise around them. It's the end of the day, students from all classes are taking some well-earned rest after a day of tought studying - after all, it's almost the period of exams. Jonathan isn't too worried about it. He knows he'll ace metamorphosis, healing and history, and with some luck he'll do good at philosophy and PE. He's not the best at maths and sociology, thought, but he knows his way to keep his grades up. Sock, in the other hand, will probably struggle with healing and history, while he will be the first at maths and philosophy. And even if they fail, they still have two more years ahead to deal with crafty classes.

 

He catches the sight of the unknown kids walking back inside of the main building and gently pokes at Sock, who sleepily opens an eye.

 

"What ?"

 

"Do you know them ?"

 

The small guy sits up straight to look behind, catching their figures just in time before they disappear inside of the school.

 

"Uh... Oh, right, they're the kids we brought back yesteray ! Charles and Blaze, or something like that. What kind of name is Blaze anyway ?"

 

Jon snorts.

 

"I mean, what kind of name is Napoleon ?"

 

"Okay, fair point," Sock says, grinning behind his hand, but then concern shines again in his eyes. "Are you okay, thought ? For good ?"

 

"If I wasn't, I would be dead already," he simply responds, and it is probably true.


	6. Sock

When he walks into the cafeteria that night alongside Jonathan, they walk in on a fight between a shapeshifter and a gorgon. Steven is looking pissed, his bat wings fully unfold, and if looks could kill Clarisse would probably be accused of murder. Jonathan ducks as a full plate of pasta flies across the room and walks to their usual table, Sock following right behind. In the distance, Carmen is separating a staff member from a security guard with great difficulty while being shouted at by a twelve year-old. Without Internet all day, everyone's nervosity is increasing : no way to contact families since the school doesn't have phone coverage, no researches for homework, no social networks to talk with friends... They feel deservedly cut off from the rest of the world.

 

Jonathan lands on his chair with a grunt, discreetly rubbing his ribs ; not discreet enough to hide it from Sock, though. He winces, knowing from experience that it must hurt a lot more than what the guy lets appear, and fishes the painkiller bottle in his pocket, handing it over. Jonathan grabs it silently and plops down two pills, swallowing them without water.

 

"You should go to the infirmary," he pipes up after a few minutes of quiet mastication.  
"I'm fine," Jonathan groans, his head between his hands. "It's just phantom pains, is all. They can't do anything against it."

 

Then, after a few seconds, he scowls and adds :

 

"Why do you have painkillers anyway ?"

 

He shurgs and devours his dinner, not bothering to know what's happening around, but his partner narrows his eyes and pokes gently at him with his fork.

 

"What ?" Sock tries to says around a mouthful of green beans, frowning.  
"The painkillers. Why do you have them ?"  
"They gave them to me. For you."

 

Jonathan's scowl deepens.

 

"Who gave them ?"  
"The nurse, who else ?"  
"...The nurse gave you a full bottle of pills, highest dosage, while she knows very well that it'll just have a placebo effect on me ? I call bullshit on that," he says, leaning back in his seat while drumming his fingers on the table.

 

It's that last detail that puts Sock on edge. He rolls his eyes and stabs his meat, a little harder than necessary, before glaring back.

 

"What do you want, Sherlock ? You're in pain, I give you painkillers. Do you really need to know how I got them ?"  
"You stole them, didn't you ?"  
"What difference does it make ?" he asks, raising his voice.  
"It puts you in trouble and that's exactly the last thing we need right now ! Why would you do that when-"  
"Maybe I feel bad, alright ?!" Sock shouts, standing suddently and drawing attention from the nearest table, but he really doesn't care. "Maybe what Mephisto told me about us not being war machines, about you being too much at the hospital, it had all day to sink in, so excuse me for maybe feeling responsible of your injuries !"  
"Sock, sit down," the other one grunts between his clenched teeth.  
"Maybe, maybe I realized you're not fucking invincible ! That I should probably not push you so much ! Maybe I don't want you to be hurt anymore, okay ? Is that so hard to believe ?"  
"Okay, okay, Sock, you have to calm down," Jonathan is already turning around the table to reach him, and Sock distantly notices that his hands are shaking - or maybe it's just an effect of the blur in his eyes.

 

The next few minutes is a complete mess, he only knows that Jonathan is dragging him out of the cafeteria under a hundred looks and that he's having trouble with breathing. Then he feels the cold air of the night on his face, Jonathan's hands taking his hat away and oxygen finally getting in his lungs. He takes a few shaky, deep breathes, his hands on his head just like he learned in PE to facilitate the air circulation.

 

"You okay ?" Jon's voice sounds far.  
"Have been better," he admits, restraining a sob.  
"What the hell happened ? Do you need me to hold you ?"

 

Sock feels his knees buckling and it's a good enough answer for his partner : Jonathan takes him and hold him tight, like he could disappear any second.

 

"I'm sorry. The tension just built up for a moment and I- I couldn't fight it. I'm sorry. I meant it though. It's hard to dawn on that you can actually die from your injuries."  
"Yeah, I saw that, you seemed about to burst on the spot. Or burst into tears, but, you know. Semantics."

 

Sock laughs but when it comes out as a strangled sob, he burries his face in the solid shoulder he's pressed into instead. They stand a moment like that, Sock trying to take control back on his legs and his lungs and his heart and his head that just _won't quit spinning_ , and Jonathan just being here. Because that's exactly where Sock needs him right now. Not on the field, not in class, not away : here, with him.

 

"But you bring back the bottle tomorrow," Jonathan says, making Sock snort in disbelief.  
"There is no way that you endure this under my watch," he replies, his voice muffled by the fabric of the sweatshirt but still audible, and he can practically feel Jonathan rolling his eyes.  
"Okay fine, then I'll do a check with the nurse. Is that good ?"  
"Good enough."

 

Jonathan has a long sigh that rumbles in his chest.

 

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother," he mutters for himself before losing his grip and adding : "Let's head back, it's chilling out there."

 

Sock nodds and steps back, restauring a minimal personal space between the two of them, but one of his hands doesn't let go on Jon's. Not that the latter seems to notice or even complain. They just walk back to their forsaken food, the rest of the students already leaving.


	7. Jonathan

"You know what's cool ?"

 

He groans. It's three in the morning, he went to bed less than five minutes ago and he is well intended to have some rest before morning classes, but for some reason Sock doesn't agree with him and instead insists on talking every ten seconds.

 

"No, I don't know," he huffs. "What ?"  
"The fact that humans don't do witch hunts anymore. Because it would be soooo hard to work if people tried to stab us whenever we try to help them, you know what I mean ?"

 

He rolls his eyes and burries his head under his pillow.

 

"Go to sleep, Sock."

 

Silence falls on the two of them, only cut by the faint noise of dormitory life all around. There is a wolf howl down the hall and a lot of wind out of their window. A light frush of fabrics when Sock eventually rolls in his bed. Jonathan knows from experience that the young demon needs a precise ritual to fall asleep : eight breathings on the left side, sixteen on the back, thirty-two on the right side and then finally sleep on the stomach. Not that he counts - it would be creepy, right ? Super creepy.

 

"Hey Jon ?" Sock's voice raises again, but souding uncertain.  
"What ?" he asks as he pushes the pillow out of his face.  
"Can I ask you something personal ?"  
"Shoot."  
"... Have you ever been human ?"

 

He thinks about it. For a long moment. He doesn't know why he's even searching for the answer, because he knows it. It finally clicks in his head that the truth isn't what he would like it to be.

 

"No. As far as I can remember, I've always been a chimera. Why ?"  
"Nothing. I just miss it sometimes."

 

Jonathan sits in his bed and tries to peek at his friend, despite the frame of the bunk bed between them.

 

"You miss being human ?" he snorts, shaking his head.  
"Whaaaat, it was fun !" Sock has a tired giggle. "It was different !"  
"Different how ?"  
"I don't know, just...! Different, you know ? Everything was easier," he replies with a huff. "Calm, smooth. Now it's intense and instable and complicated and... well. More dangerous."

 

Another silence, and then :

"Are you okay ?"  
"I guess ?" Sock sniggers, but his tone betrays him.  
"Want to sleep together tonight ?" Jonathan asks.

 

Sock's head goes through the bed to look at him, uncertain.

 

"For real ?"  
"Why not ?" Jonathan shrugs and opens his arms in an inviting gesture.

 

Sock grins and drops onto him, making the two of them grunt with the shock, but it's all good. As he wraps his arms around the smaller boy, Jonathan wonders why they even try to sleep separately anymore - it's the third time in as many days, if he doesn't count the whole healing process.


	8. Sock

For once, Sock's sitting quietly, minding his own business and doodling in his textbook while Jonathan is finishing his night next to him - it's the main reason why he isn't talking, but the fact that he's half-asleep too is another one. The amphitheater is half-full with chattering students waiting for the professor to show up and start his class.

 

Sock doesn't mind that much if classes start at eight in the morning. Most of the students are attending them in pajamas anyway, so he doesn't stick out much in shirt and boxers, his hat shoved on his head to the eyes. The anthropomorphic dragon they call teacher eventually makes his way to the stage and the auditorium falls into silence. Sock gently nudges Jonathan, who groans quietly and raises his head from the desk, rubbing idly his temples. Sock can't help but frown.

 

"Don't forget to go to the nurse," he whispers in his ear, making his partner frown harder.  
"Yeah, yeah, I know."  
"Silence, please !" the teacher's voice booms, stopping the last chat. "We're gonna take the roll and then going back to where we left last week. Beck, Alana..."

 

As the teacher calls every kid, Sock scoots closer and elbows Jonathan again, who huffs and rubs his eyes.

 

"What."  
"Look, in the back. See, behind Erica and Clarisse ?"  
"What are you... Oh," the chimera wonders as his eyes land on a smaller duo on the other side of the amphi. "What are they doing here ? Aren't they too young to be in this class ?"  
"I know, right ? They should be with the middle school level or something..."

 

Jonathan is about to reply but instead he raises his hand when he hears his name, before turning back to Sock.

 

"Not even the middle school, they should be in rehab. It's only been three days."  
"Four," he corrects. "But yeah, that's super weird."

 

The teacher then makes a pause and frowns, drawing back their attention on him.

 

"Hum... Blaiz Chesterfield and Charlie Nightingale ?" he calls, scanning the room, looking for unknown faces and gasps when the two kids raise their hands. "Oh, you're... you. I guess the director told you about..?"  
"He did," the older one cuts, his voice soft but firm.  
"Alright then. Combs, Sowachowski, raise your hand."

 

The two partners exchange a look and slowly do as told, only to witness the two kids get up and walk in their direction. The taller one (is it Blaiz or Charlie ?) is holding the younger one's hand as they slide on the bench next to Sock, who doesn't lose a beat and holds his hand out in greeting.

 

"Hey guys. Glad to see you're fine."  
"Hi," the small one chirps from behind his friend's back.  
"Hello," Jonathan echoes distantly.  
"Hi," the taller one shakes Sock's hand quickly. "Did Mr Mephistopheles told you or..?"  
"We don't know shit, what's happening ?" Jonathan grumbles from the end of the bench, earning a jab from his partner.  
"Don't be rude !"  
"No, it's okay, we, uh, it's confusing for us too," the boy nervously chuckles. "I'm Charlie and this is my... brother, Blaiz."  
"Hi !" Blaiz repeats and waves his hand.  
"So, what's up with the Boss ?" Sock tries to put the discussion back on track.  
"Oh, uh. Long story short, we're not supposed to be here. We're not even supposed to exist officially but uh..."  
"We're the bad guys," Blaiz supplies as he leans forward on the desk to have a better look of the other two. "We're basically the villains but because I'm a distant relative of Mephistopheles, he can't just deliver us to the police."  
"That, and the fact that we're both minors," Charlie mutters with a weird look on his face.  
"What do you mean, you're the bad guys ?" Sock chirps, being the one earning a jab from Jonathan this time.  
"Sock, that's impolite-"  
"You save people, we kill them," Charlie breath sounds difficult. "We just... We happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and we got caught in some monster traffic. We tried to get out but you showed up and we... Anyways," he huffs, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wood of the desk.  
"That's... fucked up," Jonathan whispers, and Sock notices how pale he is.  
"The point is, my mom will be here soon to pick us up and bring us back home," Blaiz adds, "but Mephistopheles said he'd have the two of you watching us during this time because he doesn't want to leave us unattended."  
"I swear if that's the reason why we're not allowed outside..." Sock grumbles and crosses his arms. "So we're stuck babysitting ?"  
"Pretty much," Blaiz replies.  
"Looks like it," Charlie smiles apologetically.  
"How long ?" Jonathan asks.  
"Until my Mom comes to get us."  
"Could take three days, a week... Maybe more."  
"She's not away for long, so she'll notice we're not home."  
"And Mr Mephistopheles said he would contact her somehow."

 

Sock grins despite himself. He likes these kids. Jonathan doesn't seem to share this opinion.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave kudos and comments, they feed the author's motivation !


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